


Stripper Shoes

by linaerys



Category: Adam Lambert - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-20
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linaerys/pseuds/linaerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy finds something special in Adam's closet. Total PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stripper Shoes

Tommy doesn’t think of it as snooping, not exactly. After all, Adam gave him a key—although that’s not saying much; most of his friends have keys. Some of Adam’s shirts are so slinky and form-fitting, Tommy thinks they might work on him. Might. Adam’s a lot taller and broader. Maybe something in a nice mesh that shows his nipples and pools over his hips. That could work, and Adam might be one of those guys who finds sboyfriends in his clothes hot. Tommy always liked it when his girlfriends put on his button-down shirts.

There’s an idea. Tommy goes digging further into the closet. This house is new and Adam hasn’t filled it with much. A rocking sounds system and some posters on the wall. A bunch of books, but still not enough to fill the shelves. Some pictures too, of family and plays he’s been in. But the closet is full to bursting, all in blacks and grays and silvers. It’s a sensual treat to walk through it, slippery and feathery textures floating over his skin, all smelling faintly of Adam.

Adam doesn’t own any white shirts, but he does have a grey one, sheer, with a hint of shimmer, and French cuffs. Tommy takes off his t-shirt and slides it on. He goes outside the closet to look at himself. The jeans aren’t going to work. He takes them off. The shirt is a little too big—maybe a belt. They’re hanging in the back of the closet.

Tommy glides through the clothing again to the hooks in the back. There’s a nice studded one. He cinches it around his waist. He’s about to go back out to the bed to lounge on it until Adam comes home, when he trips over a box on the floor. It’s a shoe box, but Tommy doesn’t recognize the label.

Inside are, well, if Cinderella’s slippers had looked like these, the prince never would have let her flee. Tommy looks at the shoes more carefully. Cinderella probably would have tripped and broken her ankle running in shoes like these. They’ve got a two inch platform, a seven inch heel, Lucite and sparkles—stripper shoes.

Tommy had wondered before if Adam has these—he sings about them enough, although he didn’t write most of those lyrics—but these aren’t in Adam’s huge size, they’re nines, perfect for Tommy. He takes the shoes out to the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. The straps are complicated, but eventually he gets them wrapped around his feet. They bend into a shape he’s not used to.

When he stands up, the shoes pitch him forward so his ass is sticking out. He looks at himself in the mirror and pulls a lock of hair down over his eyes. Lipstick, he needs lipstick. He’s got a vampy pink in his pocket from the last time he and Mia got dolled up, and he’s on the floor on his hands and knees, getting it out of the pocket of his discarded jeans when Adam comes in.

Adam starts laughing as soon as he sees Tommy, but Tommy doesn’t turn around until he’s got the lipstick on. It’s probably messy, but it’s gonna get that way anyway as soon as Adam kisses him.

He hears Adam flop down on the bed, and he stands up and turns around with a pout.

“I was saving those shoes were for your birthday,” says Adam. He’s all dressed up from some interview or another, wearing a black waistcoat under a black jacket, his hair slicked back all butch- _Grease_ -like. Tommy thinks he’s hot in anything he wears, but this is a special sort of hot. A fuck-me-without-ever-taking-your-clothes-off hot.

Tommy does his best Marilyn, “Happy Birthday . . . Mr. President,” pushing out his lips so much he can hardly get the words out.

Adam leans up on his elbows and raises an eyebrow. “Can you walk in those?”

Tommy’s not sure, but he does his best fierce model walk until he stumbles and Adam leaps up to catch his elbow. Tommy brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Sort of?”

“I suppose you want me to fuck you like that,” says Adam.

Tommy blushes. He can never get used to how fast Adam moves, and how fast it makes him hot. When Adam lets go of his arm, he settles to his knees and mouths Adam’s dick through the thin pants. He can feel every ridge—Adam rarely wears anything underneath.

Tommy undoes the zipper when he judges Adam’s hard enough for it to be uncomfortable, and Adam’s cock springs loose into his mouth. It’s always a revelation, how much Tommy loves it, the thick hotness of Adam in his mouth, sliding over his lips. Adam buries his hand in Tommy’s hair and pulls him forward so he has to take more of it, and God, Tommy wishes he could see how this looked right now, his pink mouth around Adam’s dick, Adam still fully clothed, still wearing his gloves, for fuck’s sake.

“I want to fuck you standing up,” says Adam. “You hanging onto the wall, barely keeping your balance in those heels.”

Now he gets to see. Adam pushes him up against the mirror, puts Tommy’s two hands on it, covering them with his own. He kisses the back of Tommy’s neck while one finger slides between his cheeks. Then Adam’s spreading him wide and licking him, holding him up with one hand around his waist, while Tommy teeters on his heels and tries to push back against Adam, anything to get more of that feeling.

Adam stops abruptly and Tommy whines to have it back, but Adam’s kissing his neck again while Tommy grinds his ass against Adam’s crotch, and then Adam’s slicked up fingers are going into him, and he can feel the teasing edges of Adam’s fingerless gloves and the cold kiss of his silver rings. He’s still wearing them.

Tommy looks up to see them in the mirror, Adam wearing a frown of concentration, his hair still shiny and perfect, and Tommy, messy and flushed, already looking well fucked, and it isn’t even the main event yet. Adam smiles when he sees Tommy looking and fucks Tommy with his fingers. Tommy rocks back against him, wanting more, wanting this, wanting anything.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” he’s chanting. Adam puts the head of his cock against Tommy’s hole and Tommy shuts up. He’s never not scared at this moment, no matter how many times they’ve done it, no matter how much he wants it. It’s never less than mind-shattering, and one of these days Tommy thinks he’s going to fall apart and even Adam’s big hands won’t be able to hold him together.

He wobbles on the heels as Adam pushes into him. “I got you,” says Adam. With the heels Tommy’s just the right height for this. Adam presses in smoothly and hits him _there_ , the place where Tommy goes to pieces. “I won’t let you fall,” Adam tells him.

Adam holds him by his hips and pulls Tommy to him. That’s all that’s anchoring Tommy to earth, Adam’s hands, and his dick. He fucks Tommy slowly, like he has all the time in the world. He still hasn’t unbuttoned a single button. He could go back out and do another interview right now, and no one would know except Tommy.

“Come on,” says Tommy, but Adam could keep him on the edge like this, all day and all night, and Tommy wouldn’t mind. Adam reaches around so Tommy his fucking his hand, the tight circle of his fingers, and Tommy’s floating, falling, coming into Adam’s hand while Adam holds him up. Then, with a catch in his throat Adam says, “One more second,” and Adam comes too, breathing hard against Tommy’s neck, throbbing up inside him.

Tommy turns his head to kiss Adam’s mouth. “You’re so fucking hot,” says Adam, “but I can’t hold you up like this . . .” He pulls away and lets Tommy down to the ground. Tommy undoes the shoes and takes them off before he can stand, and even then his knees are wobbly.

He slides his fingers through the straps of the shoes and dangles them there. Adam lies back on the bed, his dick still poking out of his pants. It should look comical, but on Adam it only looks hot, evidence that he's had Tommy, and he's gonna do it again. Tommy swings the shoes back and forth. “I thought you’d want me with my heels in the air.”

Adam pulls Tommy to him and Tommy lets the shoes fall on the ground. “Next time.” Adam wraps around him.

Tommy reaches up behind Adam’s head, to feel the soft hair at the nape of his neck, where it isn’t gelled into oblivion. “What if I wear a corset too?” Tommy asks.

Adam nuzzles the sensitive spot under Tommy's ear. “Whatever you want, baby.”


End file.
